


On Gereon

by LydiaJ



Category: Gaunt's Ghosts - Dan Abnett
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Knifeplay, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:37:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaJ/pseuds/LydiaJ
Summary: Rawne's dreams torment him with images of Gaunt, until he can think of only one way to make them stop.





	

Rawne's sleep was restless. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Gaunt and Sabbatine Kirk writhing together in ecstasy. The image always left him equal parts furious and aroused. He kept waking up desperately hard, only finding relief by jacking off quickly, one hand over his mouth. Despite himself, he thought of Gaunt as he came. He tried to think of Jessi, but it was hard to remember her face. 

For once, Gaunt, Rawne, and Feygor were working together on a mission. Usually, Rawne and Feygor worked alone, but they needed a third person to carry all the explosives they needed and Gaunt was the only one who could go.  
The journey was largely uneventful. They had to dodge a few patrols, but that was all. The first night out, they holed up in an abandoned farmhouse to sleep. Rawne slept fitfully until his turn at guard, waking often to see Gaunt watching him. Even when he rolled over to face the wall, he still felt that hard gaze on his skin. It comforted him, not that he'd ever admit it.  
The next morning dawned cold and clear. They woke in silence and ate hurriedly. Rawne yawned and stretched, still not completely awake. Gaunt was looking over their map and frowning.  
"I'm not sure where we are, according to the map," he said.  
Feygor crouched opposite him. "I think we're here." He pointed at a fork in the road in the northern part of the map. "We should get to the building tomorrow evening."  
"Good. We'll set the explosives to 15 minutes. Enough to let us get away." Gaunt stood and peered around. "The coast is clear, let’s go while it stays that way."

They made it to the building without further incident. It used to be a warehouse, holding grain until it could be shipped to market. After the invasion, the Sons of Sek had converted it into an armory. For whatever reason, it was lightly guarded, and the Resistance thought it made a good target for destruction.  
They split up and placed all the explosives, attaching them to the walls with adhesive and arming them. It all went well until they reached the main hall. Then, as they laid the last explosives, the enemy hit. Sons of Sek, armed to the teeth, dropped from the ceiling. Rawne took out two with his knife. Feygor killed several, as well. Gaunt was across the room from them, stabbing and slicing the enemy with his sword. Rawne watched Gaunt for a moment, then was distracted by an enemy warrior jumping on his back. Between them, Rawne and Feygor were making short work of the enemy.  
Then the corner of the building blew. The corner where Rawne had last seen Gaunt. He froze, as everything else fell away. Gaunt was dead. He might have been happy with that, once. Now, all he felt was cold. A Sons of Sek cultist tried to attack him and he stabbed them automatically, mind blank. Feygor grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away, dragging him towards cover. When the explosions started going off, they were thrown off their feet and into a ditch at the side of the road.  
Rawne landed on top of Gaunt at the bottom of the ditch. The blasts showered them with dirt and blood. They clung to each other as the earth shook around them. It went on forever, until it stopped abruptly and the only sound was their breath, harsh and desperate.  
After the explosions stopped, Rawne pulled back and stared at Gaunt. He had thought, for a moment, that Gaunt was dead. That he would never see him again.  
Neither was sure who moved first. One moment they were staring at each other, panting for breath. The next, they were kissing fiercely. The last of the frozen feeling was burned out of Rawne's body at the sensation of Gaunt's lips on his. He clutched Gaunt to him desperately.  
"Hey!" Feygor said. "Do you want to get caught?"  
Gaunt and Rawne jerked apart. They climbed out of the ditch and the three of them crept back into the forest. Rawne couldn't bring himself to look at Gaunt. He didn't know what the other man's expression would be. He wasn't sure what he wanted it to be. With each step they took, an uneasy tension grew up between them.  
Once they got back to their headquarters, Rawne avoided Gaunt. Anytime Gaunt entered a room, he left. He and Feygor spent most of their time traveling between resistance cells, teaching them about explosives. But the dreams didn't stop. If anything, they got more vibrant, more lifelike every night. He felt like he was going mad.

Finally, he decided he had to do something about it.

Rawne crept up the stairs, towards Gaunt's room. The door was ajar. He peered in, expecting that bitch to be there, but the only one in the bed was Gaunt, curled on his side, fast asleep.  
Rawne slipped through the door and crouched near the head of the bed, pulling out his knife. He laid his blade against Gaunt's throat, not pressing hard enough to break the skin. Not yet.  
He had to kill Gaunt. It was the only way those dreams could end. The image of him and Gaunt writhing together was burned into his mind, like the image of Gaunt and Kirk, only worse. Worse because the image of Gaunt and Kirk never woke him up so hard he came at the slightest pressure against his dick.  
He pressed his blade against Gaunt's skin, raising a thin red line of blood that ran down his neck. Before he could finish him off, though, Gaunt's eyes opened. He grabbed Rawne's wrist and twisted it away from him, forcing Rawne to drop his knife. Then he shoved Rawne backwards and followed him as he went, so he landed on top of Rawne, one hand on his wrist and one on his throat. Rawne grabbed Gaunt's arm and tried to pull his hand away from his throat, but he didn't budge.  
Rawne gasped for breath. He dug his nails into Gaunt's flesh. Gaunt's grip broke and Rawne twisted under him, lunging for the knife. Gaunt stopped him by simply dropping his entire body weight on Rawne, driving the breath from his body again.  
"Rawne? What are you doing?"  
"Come to kill you," Rawne rasped. "Can't stand it anymore."  
"Can't stand what?"  
"The temptation. The fething temptation. Every night. If I kill you, it stops."  
Gaunt pulled back and Rawne rolled over onto his back. He didn't try to get his knife again, but merely laid still, chest heaving. Having Gaunt so near was effecting his emotions, twisting him up in a vortex of fear and desire. He was torn between kissing Gaunt and taking his knife and burying it in his chest.  
"Rawne... what's going on? Can I help?"  
"Don't. Don't be nice." Rawne turned his head away. "I can't take it." Gaunt's body was warm against his. It tormented him. He looked up at Gaunt again. Gaunt hardly looked like the stern, distant Commissar he usually was. His hair fell into his eyes, which were bleary with sleep. His skin, under the dirt, was pale with exhaustion. His body trembled slightly against Rawne's, though whether it was with tension or fatigue, he could not say.  
All the tension in Rawne's body was draining away under that quiet gaze, replaced by a strange calm. Perhaps he was finally going mad. If he was, he might as well enjoy himself. He awkwardly leaned up and pressed his lips against Gaunt's.  
He could feel Gaunt freeze up and braced himself for whatever he would do. He was expecting a punch, or at least to be pushed away. He didn't expect Gaunt to kiss back.  
Gaunt's mouth was warm against his. The burning in his veins was back, but different. Better. The heat of desire, not anger. Rawne couldn't help but moan.  
"You sound so good." Gaunt pressed kisses against the edge of his chin. "Do it again."  
"M'not a performing bear. I don't do anything on cue. I-" Rawne's rant was cut off by another moan when Gaunt sucked a hickey into his neck.  
Rawne pushed Gaunt's shirt up until it was gathered under his armpits. He raked his nails down Gaunt's chest. In response, Gaunt bit down on the place where his neck met his shoulder.  
Gaunt sat up, leaned all his weight on Rawne’s groin, and arched his back as he pulled his shirt completely off. Rawne stroked the thick, ropy scar that ran across Gaunt's stomach. The scar twitched under his hands.  
The half-light in the room cast everything in high contrast. Gaunt's face, already made severe from stress and hunger, looked blade-sharp. He was thin, gaunt in name and nature, but Rawne found that he didn't care. Desire still burned through his veins.  
"Staring again?" Gaunt frowned. "I know I'm hardly in top shape, but there's no need to do that."  
"Oh, feth." Rawne hadn't realized that he was staring. "It's not... you're not..." He couldn't find the words. So he yanked Gaunt down again and kissed him as hard as he could. He undid Gaunt's pants and tugged them down. Gaunt shifted and pushed them down and off.  
"Now you," Gaunt said. He sat back and let Rawne get up.  
Rawne peeled his shirt and pants off. He was as skinny and dirty as Gaunt was, but he saw no pity in Gaunt's eyes. He stared at Gaunt for a long moment, then tackled him, pressing him to the floor even as he cradled his head in his hand. He grabbed his knife with his other hand. Rawne slid his knife across Gaunt's bare chest, watching the blood well up in a thin line. Gaunt moaned, arching his back. Rawne felt Gaunt's cock twitch against his.  
"Oh, you like that, don't you?" Rawne licked the knife.  
"Feth, yes." Gaunt pulled him down and kissed him. "Do it again."  
Rawne pressed the tip of his knife against one of Gaunt's nipples. Gaunt gasped and squirmed under him. Having this much power over Gaunt was intoxicating. It turned him on like nothing else.  
"Please," Gaunt said. "Please." He seemed unable to continue. His chest heaved.  
"Please what?" Rawne slid his knife across Gaunt's chest again, forming a large X above Gaunt's scar.  
"Please- I want-"  
Rawne could probably figure out what Gaunt wanted, since his hips were constantly rubbing against Rawne's, but he wasn't going to make it easy. "Use your words, Colonel-Commissar. You're usually so good with them."  
"Feth you," Gaunt managed. "I want- I want you."  
"Just me in general? Or something specific?"  
"Don't care right now. Just want you."  
"You have me." Rawne didn't mean to say that. It just kind of slipped out. All his blood was pooled in his groin, that was it.  
Gaunt pulled him close again, close enough that their chests were touching. Gaunt's blood stuck to both of them. Rawne pulled back a bit and stared down at the red smears on his skin.  
"The things we do," he murmured. He stayed there, frozen in thought, until Gaunt grabbed his shoulders and rolled them over, so he was on top.  
"Enough of that." He rocked forwards, against Rawne. They both moaned as pleasure shot through them.  
"I'm close," Rawne said. "Feth, you feel good."  
"Me, too." Gaunt pressed open-mouthed, panting kisses against Rawne's skin.  
For one, perfect moment, the world outside ceased to exist. The stress and grime of their life on Gereon fell away. It was just the two of them, together, locked in an embrace, pleasure surrounding them.  
They came down slowly, breathing in sync. Eventually, Rawne grabbed one of their shirts and wiped them both off. They curled up together, Gaunt spooned against Rawne's back. They fell asleep like that, slow and easy. If they dreamed, neither remembered it. 

Gaunt woke slowly. He had dreamed that night; a good dream this time. He stretched and froze as his arm hit warm skin. Someone was in the bed with him. He rolled over carefully. Who could it be?  
Elim Rawne lay next to him, curled in on himself, fast asleep. His face looked younger in his sleep, all the worries and stress of their life smoothed away. His hair was grown out and his bangs nearly covered his eyes. The lack of food on Gereon had sharpened his face, making him look as knife-like as ever. He still took Gaunt's breath away.  
Gaunt sat up, still staring at Rawne. If he was here, it wasn't a dream. Rawne had come here in the middle of the night, threatening to kill him, but kissing him instead. Warm skin on skin, clinging together, moving together. Both of them succumbing to pleasure long enough to forget the stress of life on Gereon. It had been blissful. And real.  
Rawne blinked his eyes open and stared up at Gaunt. Their eyes met for a moment. Gaunt felt awkward. He wasn't sure what to say. He certainly hadn't expected this to happen, no matter how much he wanted it too. He'd long since given up on that.  
"Stop staring," Rawne mumbled.  
"Sorry. I just didn't expect you to be here," Gaunt said.  
"Where'd you expect me to be?"  
"I thought I was dreaming. It wouldn't be the first time."  
"Dreaming? Was it that good?"  
Gaunt blushed, despite himself. "It was."  
Rawne just smirked.


End file.
